


Helpless Health

by Sunfreckle, TheLordOfLaMancha



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Download Available, M/M, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 30-45 Minutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25491322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Sunfreckle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLordOfLaMancha/pseuds/TheLordOfLaMancha
Summary: As soon as he’s clear of the last row of people and is sure that no one is watching him, Grantaire shoves his hands deep into his pockets and runs.He needs to run. Enjolras’ speech is still echoing through his mind. And so is his smile. If an image can even have an echo. It must have though. Because the light in Enjolras’ eyes while he thanked him is bouncing around in Grantaire’s skull.By now Grantaire can’t stop smiling and he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t find a way to get rid of this energy soon, he will start burning up from the inside out. His magic is trying to claw its way out of his body in joyous, restless bounds, and it’s only the pounding of his feet on the ground that is preventing it from spiralling directionless out of control.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 51
Collections: Pod_Together 2020





	Helpless Health

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in the same universe as Second Sight and Lingering Life. A world that stuck with analogue technology, because its easy integration with magic made the digital revolution less urgent.

****

**Download Link:** [.mp3 via the Internet Archive](https://archive.org/download/helpless-health-final-mixdown-v-2/HelplessHealth-final_mixdown-v2.mp3)

~

Enjolras steps down from the makeshift stage, gladly exchanging the united gaze of the crowd for Courfeyrac’s encouraging grin. All around them the crowd of students is still buzzing and _this_ , Enjolras silently reminds himself, is his favourite moment of any gathering such as this. The moment when the eyes are no longer on him, but his words are now on other people’s lips. Being mulled over and placed in new thoughts. Reconsidered, rephrased and repeated until they have been made their _own_. If he can inspire people to do that, Enjolras feels, they need him for very little else.

It's what he values most about all this. The tangible feeling of the power of words. Of the power of conviction, of free thought. It's glorious, and it beats any magic he has ever encountered. 

Enjolras leans back against the wooden scaffolding with a smile, watching Grantaire jump down after him.

“Thanks for interpreting, R,” he speaks up. “I can’t believe we didn’t think of that before!” He isn’t sure if there was anyone present that actually required Grantaire's signing, but that isn’t the point. Inclusivity has to start somewhere. If anything they are showing the university to step up their own game.

Grantaire plants his feet on the ground and grins at a point somewhere below Enjolras’ shoulder. “Course.”

Since he doesn’t seem to be actually looking at him, Enjolras makes an effort to catch his eye. Just to make sure his full appreciation came across right. He’s aware that it’s gone unnoticed in the past, especially when it comes to Grantaire. But before he can repeat himself, Ferre steps in between them, and then two students approach him with questions. So he leaves it be for now, secure in the knowledge that in the meantime, his friends will be just as capable of conveying their appreciation of Grantaire’s efforts.

The buzz of the crowd is only growing, his friends are entering into spirited conversations on either side of him, and the setting sun is waving a flag of brightening colours across the sky. It’s a nearly perfect moment.

~~~

The crowd is small, but it’s more than enough to disappear in. As soon as he’s clear of the last row of people and is sure that no one is watching him, Grantaire shoves his hands deep into his pockets and runs.

He needs to run. Enjolras’ speech is still echoing through his mind. And so is his smile. If an image can even have an echo. It must have though. Because the light in Enjolras’ eyes while he thanked him is bouncing around in Grantaire’s skull.

By now Grantaire can’t stop smiling and he’s pretty sure that if he doesn’t find a way to get rid of this energy soon, he will start burning up from the inside out. His magic is trying to claw its way out of his body in joyous, restless bounds, and it’s only the pounding of his feet on the ground that is preventing it from spiralling directionless out of control.

He knew this was going to happen. As soon as Enj asked him. As soon as he stupidly agreed. Or he _should_ have known. He only ever signs to cast. Yes, it’s a perk to have the skill at his disposal on the rare occasions that he meets someone who has LSF as their first language, but to him, signing will always be primarily about magic.

Writing, chanting, visualizing, nothing ever worked for him. The power of a spell dies on his lips before he has even gotten halfway through the sentence. But if he can _sign_ it— If he can _move_ the words into existence, he can make them do almost anything.

Looking back on it, it seems like a stupid thing not to have caught onto earlier in his life. Because movement has always been the thing for him. Movement, rhythm and direction, that is where his magic lies. Grantaire knows this by now.

And what he has just been doing – for the last _full half hour_ – is moving to Enjolras’ voice. Shaping his spoken words into gestures. Letting his meaning, his intention, his drive – all the blinding, overwhelming purpose Enjolras embodies when he’s in front of a crowd – flow straight into the rhythm of his hands.

Grantaire swallows down a strangled noise. It’s a bloody miracle he didn’t start melting the stage halfway through.

~~~

The streetlights are blinking into life by the time the last of the crowd starts to disperse. Enjolras looks around, taking stock of the situation. Courfeyrac is talking to one of the university administrators. She seems genuinely pleased with him and, by extension, the rest of them. Bless Courfeyrac.

Enjolras searches for a second head of loose curls, but doesn’t find it. That’s odd. Come to think of it, he hasn’t seen Grantaire in a while.

“Ferre?”

Combeferre turns around, his half-polished glasses in his hands. “Hm?”

“Have you seen Grantaire?”

The way Combeferre looks down before putting his glasses back on and meeting his gaze is very telling and it gives Enjolras a sinking feeling in his stomach. What went wrong this time?

“He left pretty soon after the speech.” Ferre looks hesitant. “I think he needed to unwind a bit.”

“What do you mean?” Enjolras frowns at Combeferre’s anxiously neutral face. “Ferre, was it something I said? He did so great! I told him he did!”

“No, Enj-” Comferre shuts his mouth abruptly and then tries again. “I think he just wanted to be alone for a bit.”

“But shouldn’t he have come back by now then?” Enjolras glances past Combeferre to where Bossuet and Joly are sitting. They don't look concerned. 

Combeferre clears his throat. “I think-”

Enjolras’ mind clicks. “You saw something, didn’t you?” he says soberly. “I mean _saw_ something.” He’d never ask Combeferre to breach someone’s privacy by telling him what his second sight showed him by accident, but— “If something’s wrong with him, I need to know, Ferre. So I-” So he what? Why should he need to know? “So I can help.”

Ferre sighs. “It’s nothing you did, Enj,” he says. “R’s just… You do know he uses his sign language almost exclusively for magic, right? Signing like that must have taken a lot out of him. Energetically speaking, I mean. He looked pretty wound up by the end of it.”

Enjolras stares at him. Grantaire signs to cast. Yes, of course, he knows that. But it hadn’t occurred to him that using the movements in a non-magical way would still call up magic. He so rarely uses innate magic himself, he forgets what a strain it can be on people. How easily it can slip. “Then why did he say yes?” he asks, dismayed. “I asked him if he wouldn’t mind interpreting for me and he-” His stomach drops further under Combeferre’s restrained expression. “Is it because _I_ asked?” His can feel his shoulders sagging. “Ferre should I have-”

“He said yes,” Combeferre interrupts him. “It was his decision. And I’m sure it’s fine. He probably just went to the studio to dance it off.” He smiles slightly. “You can tell him how much you appreciate his efforts tomorrow in class.”

Enjolras holds back a frown, barely. Yes, he could. He could also wait for Grantaire to go home and call him. But It’s getting late, and tomorrow he and R don't share any classes until after lunch, and something _he_ did made Grantaire uncomfortable.

That isn’t right.

He ought to check up on him.

~~~

Grantaire feels better as soon as the door of the studio closes behind him. If only because he knows that he's safe in here. His magic, however wild it gets, won’t be able to escape the confines of this room. His hands are still shaking though and Grantaire laughs out loud with relief when he sees whoever danced here before him didn’t put away the boombox.

“Bless your half-assery whoever you are,” he sighs. "Person after my own heart." And with a blessed rush of release he lets his magic go.

On the other end of the room the boombox instantly sparks to life and Grantaire sighs. He couldn’t have selected a better piece if he had chosen the cassette himself. His feet are keeping time before he’s even fully aware of it and as soon as the rest of his body follows, magic is crackling on his skin.

Grantaire breathes, falls back into the rhythm of the music and _dances_. Every pent up pang of energy becomes a movement, every echoing word in his mind a thump of his feet, every burning memory a leap. His muscles strain and stretch, barely warmed up from the run and already forced into grace and speed, but they catch up. They catch up and they pull his body back together, no longer flying apart at the seams but one harmonious whole of movement. A spinning center to a storm of potential. All potential and all magic. 

Merely dragging his fingers towards him through the air is ripping sparks of light into existence. Grantaire laughs, moving faster and faster. From restless energy into bursting joy into the blind chase that is channeling power. He dances until his body bends for fear of breaking and all he feels is perfect movement. When he does this right, sometimes, just for a second, he can feel the whole universe flowing through him.

Like all the magic in existence is about to strike him like a match.

~~~

Enjolras isn’t very familiar with this part of the university, he usually stays away from the tutoring rooms. Too much risk of running into the growing list of people that have tried to trick him into letting them train him. He knows the way to Ferre, Courf and Marius' departments, but he’s never been to the studio. He’s bound to find the right place eventually though and he didn’t want to ask the others to come along.

It’s late. But these spaces, though heavily warded, are never locked. If need be he can just try the doors one by one.

As he crosses the empty hallway, Enjolras wonders if he owes Grantaire an apology. Perhaps he does. Whether Grantaire _wants_ one is another matter entirely. Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked him. But Ferre is right, Grantaire is more than capable of saying no. Isn’t he?

Grantaire has a decided aversion to conflicts he did not create himself, Enjolras has learned that much. He might not have said no… Especially since Enjolras didn't expect him to say no. He shouldn't have presumed, shouldn't have forgotten how tied up with his magic Grantaire's signing is. 

That's the trouble with innate magic, it has a habit of latching onto other parts of you. And as much as they all try to see their various talents as nothing more than that, just talents, like speaking a language or being able to climb, Enjolras doesn’t like putting his friends in positions where they feel forced to use their magic on his behalf. Half his life seems to be filled with people trying to force him to use his magic. Use it, train it, neglect everything else in favour of it— He’s well aware that his personal relationship with his gift is an unfortunate exception, but that does not change his stance on the matter when it comes to forcing things upon the people around him. 

He won’t say the word ‘force’ to Grantaire, of course. He might even not say anything. But he at least wants to see if he’s okay.

As soon as he pushes through the double doors dividing the corridor, Enjolras can hear the music. He needn’t have worried about finding the correct room. The steady, muffled droning of rhythm guides him right to it.

Right to the door and straightway inside. 

It’s not his intention to go in unnoticed. He’s just used to entering quietly. But Grantaire doesn’t see him and Enjolras - well - he does see Grantaire.

Grantaire is dancing, and Enjolras is suddenly unsure whether he has ever seen him dance before. Because this- this is nothing like his cheerful dance breaks with Bossuet and Joly. Or the careful, deliberate movements of his rare demonstrations of his magic. This is _wild_.

Enjolras stands on the doorstep and stares, music washing over him in overwhelming bursts. Grantaire’s movements are fluid, seamless, but almost violent. They would be violent, if they weren’t so joyful. Enjolras doesn't even know how he knows this, he can’t see R’s face, but he can _see_ the joy.

He wishes that wasn’t all he could see.

Grantaire whirls, filling the entire space with his movement and Enjolras wishes - for the so manyth time - that he had Ferre’s gift instead of his own. Because Grantaire looks like he is sharing his dance with an unseen partner and Enjolras wants to see.

He knows Grantaire must be bursting with magic right now. That must be what makes his feet go that fast, what pushes him left when he seems to move right, what lifts him back up when he throws himself backwards. But Enjolras can’t see it. Can’t even feel it. He has no second senses. Nothing to perceive what is happening to his friend right now, what Grantaire is _doing_ right now. He has no way of perceiving what is beyond the flying curls, the whirling steps, the reaching arms.

Unless—

He’s doing it before he can prevent himself and by the time his magic is reaching out, Enjolras is unable to stop. Feeling someone’s health and strength is nothing like feeling their magic, but surely- surely he will be able to read _something_ of what he is seeing? Grantaire looks _so_ strong. Overpowered. Untouchable. Flawless.

If he could feel only a glimpse of-

Enjolras staggers.

He has never gotten the hang of using his magic subtly. Experienced, practiced healers can map out a person's well being in detail without even laying a hand on them. Enjolras is used to going on vague sensations. Different every time and almost impossible to put into words. He was prepared for the warmth. It’s only hotter and deeper, more _vibrant_ than what he expected. 

Which is why the sudden stab of cold takes him completely by surprise.

“R!”

His voice cuts through the music and Grantaire turns with a jerk. His eyes widen, he stumbles, and as he falls the boombox dies with a distressed whine of magic discharge. “Shit, Enj,” he croaks, scrambling to sit upright. “Would it kill you to-”

But Enjolras isn’t listening. He’s crossing the room and kneeling beside him.

“ _Grantaire_.”

~

Grantaire shuts his mouth. Enjolras looks worried. What did he do now?

“Look,” he says, but it’s difficult to talk sense. He’s still short of breath and humming with magic, still high on his earlier accomplishments- on that smile from earlier. Which is kind of typical, cause he seems to be spoiling all that now. Judging from Enjolras’ face. “I know I ducked out of your afterparty,” he begins. “But I had t-”

“What?” Enjolras says distractedly, his eyes progressively more distressed. “R, how long have you been dancing?”

Grantaire blinks at him. He’s not sure Enjolras has ever looked at him like this. He’s fidgeting, moving his hands as if… “I-”

“R, you’re _hurt_ . Can’t you _feel_ this?” Enjolras is almost gaping at him, but he’s also reaching out anxiously towards his feet. He stops only just shy of touching him and Grantaire decides he’s still far too overstimulated to deal with any of this.

“What are you on about?” he protests, but as soon as he shifts his body proves Enjolras right. “ _Ow_ -”

Enjolras makes a wordless, deeply anxious noise and Grantaire hastily raises up his hands. 

“Okay, I know what it looks like, but it’s fine. Really.”

Anger sparks in his blue eyes. “It’s _not_ fine. I don’t know what you did, but whatever it was, your body can’t take it. What were you doing? Your body feels exhausted while the rest of you is-” He abruptly looks away, shutting his mouth, and then immediately meets Grantaire's eyes again. “Let me help.”

Grantaire stares at him, frozen with what might well be genuine fear. He’ll have to examine that later. “Enj, you don’t h-”

“ _Let me help_.”

“Okay!” Grantaire blurts out, his first and foremost priority to do whatever it takes to make Enjolras stop looking so frantic.

“Okay,” Enjolras breathes. “Okay...just a second.”

And to Grantaire’s astonishment, he slumps from his kneeling into a sitting position and starts moving his hands like he’s cradling something in his palms. His eyes become unfocused, almost glassy, and just a few seconds too late, Grantaire realises that this is Enj using his natural magic.

Of course, he knows Enjolras is a born healer. Most of his friends do. But he’s also the only healer at the school that doesn’t study healing. Enjolras doesn’t use his gift. Or at least, Grantaire thought he didn’t. He wants to say something, stop him, explain that this isn’t necessary. That his body _can_ take the punishment, that all he needs is a moment to trade in a bit of the energy he just generated to quiet the screaming in his muscles and tendons. But he’s at a loss for words. 

Enjolras’ hands move in small, rhythmic circles, like he’s swirling water in his palms. Grantaire doubts the movement is essential, it looks more like something to focus on, the way most magic users utilize gestures. But essential or not, it’s mesmerizing.

With the amount of magic he just called up, Grantaire is just about able to feel the contours of what Enjolras is doing. It feels foreign though. A technique he isn’t familiar with. And a type of energy he cannot grasp.

Without a word Enjolras suddenly extends his hands forward, hovering the cradle of his palms over where Grantaire’s ankles are awkwardly placed somewhat in the same direction, and opens his hands.

Some magic carries a change in temperature, or so people keep telling him, but Grantaire doesn’t feel anything of the sort. He does feel something though and it reminds him...it reminds him of Bossuet. Of the way Bossuet’s own feelings trickle out of him and into other people. Enjolras' healing, however he’s doing it, feels like something’s being given to him. Poured into him. Like Grantaire sometimes feels Bossuet’s amusement seep into his skin. The flowing feeling swells and a moment later the ache in his limbs is gone. The repercussions of his too-strenuous workout soothed and washed away.

“Wow,” he breathes, an awed smile growing on his face. Then he looks up, and the smile fades.

Enjolras’ expression is pleased, but the relief on his face seems almost grim, and he looks _nothing_ like he did only a moment before.

“Enj what the fuck,” Grantaire blurts.

There are shadows under Enjolras’ eyes, his face suddenly looking oddly hollow. His shoulders have sagged and he’s sitting more heavily than before. He looks, Grantaire realises with a pang of dismay, drained.

“ _This_ is how you heal??” He scrambles to get closer to Enjolras, too upset to check this inclination like he usually does. “Fucking hell- that is definitely not worth it for a sprained ankle.”

Enjolras looks up with some of his usual defiance. Grantaire has had that look leveled at him what seems like countless times, but never quite like this. “You danced like that because of me, now I fixed it.”

Grantaire’s insides recoil from the implied responsibility, but all he can see is the exhaustion in Enjolras’ face. “Okay. I won’t do it again, but then you don’t do _that_ again. _Promise me_.”

He doesn’t even want to think it, but the only conclusion he can come to is that when Enjolras chooses to heal someone, he literally gives them part of himself. That he just did that, willingly, for _him_ , is making his stomach twist in a way he is not ready to confront. Enjolras _cannot do that again_. 

“Fine,” Enjolras says, his voice just a shade too soft.

Grantaire breathes. “No breaking my legs, no draining your health, deal?”

His mouth pulls in amusement for a moment. “Deal.” 

But almost smiling or not, Enjolras still looks like he’s about to be ill and honestly, Grantaire doesn’t know what would fuck his heart up worse right now. Attempting to help, or living with the fact that he didn’t.

Oh who is he kidding. There's only one real question right now. Which one is he less likely to survive? Dancing with Enjolras, or dancing with Enjolras watching him.

~

“So, uh, how shitty do you feel right now?” Grantaire is looking at him with an apologetic grimace and Enjolras is inclined to mimic his expression. 

“It’s fine,” he replies. It does feel like he overdid it. He let his emotions run away with him. Grantaire hadn’t been _that_ badly injured. A little less healing would have also done the trick. But it doesn't matter. “I’ll feel better in the morning.”

Grantaire nods vaguely and looks away. He clears his throat and then starts up, almost conversationally: “I haven’t gotten the hang of casting proper healing incantations yet. My tutor says I ‘lack the necessary balance’. But I can do something else.” He meets Enjolras’ gaze again. “You- this is an energy thing, yeah?

Enjolras nods. He's doing his best not to feel his own body right now, it's unpleasant to feel the sinkholes he just created in his own being. 

“Okay,” he says, relieved. “I think I can help with that. It won’t harm me,” he hastens to add. “I promise.”

No. He wants to say no. He wants to say this is fair and they should leave it at this. The holes will fill up and the gaps will mend, they always do. Grantaire doesn’t need to give him anything. But...that’s not fair, considering what he just did. And there’s no way Grantaire would lie about this, not now. “Alright.”

Grantaire’s face lights up with a lopsided grin and he gets to his feet. Enjolras watches him get up, unsure of what he’s about to do. Apparently Grantaire expected him to follow though, because he holds out a hand to help him up.

“Come on, dance with me.”

Enjolras’ brain stutters. “What?” He has _never_ been a good dancer. 

“You know how my magic works, right?” Grantaire lets out a tense chuckle.

He’s still holding out his hand and Enjolras takes it, not wanting to make him feel like he doesn’t want to accept his help. As Grantaire pulls him to his feet, however, Enjolras is suddenly aware of how close they are. He was leaning over him just a moment before, but then it was not yet so noticeable how much— Enjolras blinks at Grantaire’s curls, standing up wildly to frame his still flushed, sweaty face. He lets go of his hand. Grantaire looks taller and broader than Enjolras is used to seeing him, and without the unnerving tells of looming injury, the signs of physical exertion in his appearance are very—

“Right, music,” Grantaire says, turning rather suddenly away from him.

He gives Enjolras only a moment to collect himself, though, signing a simple “play” at the boombox to make it come back to life. The tape spins wildly inside the mechanism, sounds spooling together until they turn to a very different sort of song than they were playing before.

It’s calm, gentle music, and his relief must be visible on his face, because Grantaire laughs.

“Doesn’t have to be anything fancy, Apollo. Just movement.” He starts to step in time with the music, swaying side to side. 

“Right…” Enjolras does his best to follow, to at least keep time with Grantaire if he can’t quite manage to get into the rhythm of the music. They’re dancing together, but not too close. Grantaire doesn’t hold out his hand for him to take again and Enjolras wonders why he even expected that. It just suddenly seems...like something they could do. 

But Grantaire has started channeling magic and Enjolras does not want to disturb him. He has no idea how easy it is to disrupt Grantaire's process. Again, he can’t feel the energy building, but he can sort of see it in Grantaire. In his posture, in the way he moves, even in the look in his eyes when they meet his again.

“Now bear with me,” Grantaire grimaces. “I’m gonna try and give you something to make up for what you lost.”

Enjolras has seen Grantaire cast before, it’s a rather strange experience. Some people cast with words, other in silence, Grantaire does neither. His mouth will run with all sorts of distracting nonsense, but then his hands move with a soundless command and it happens. 

That’s not what he’s doing now though. Right now Grantaire is dancing with his eyes closed, just a few more paces closer towards him than he was before, and slowly raises his hands.

Enjolras looks at him, still swaying to the music, and thinks - for the second time that evening - that perhaps he has never looked at him properly before. 

~

It’s a simple enough spell now he’s made it his own. Grantaire extends his hands towards Enjolras in a single movement with two meanings. The signs for _energy_ and _sharing_ grafted onto each other in such a way that they almost melt into one fluid sign of their own.

He opens his eyes just in time to see the colour return to Enjolras’ cheeks. Grantaire smiles. He has never seen this trick work so fast, but it makes sense. Enjolras is a healer after all. He knows what to do with extra magical energy. Because that’s all he’s doing, just passing on some reserves. When you’re dealing with someone that’s open to using them, it works almost as well as proper healing or energising. That’s something he learned from watching Jehan.

“Is that better?” he asks. The music is still going, but they’ve both stopped dancing. Just standing in the middle of the empty studio.

“...yeah.” Enjolras’ eyes flit away from his face and then back again, smiling softly. “Much better.” 

Grantaire sighs. “Good. Cause I don’t want to have your ill health on my conscience. Courf would would kill me.”

Enjolras opens his mouth.

“If you’re trying to think of someone who would kill you for having an at best _vague_ involvement in me overdoing my Saturday night workout, don’t bother,” he interrupts. “Even Chetta wouldn’t, she has far too high a threshold to be brought to murder so easily.”

To his infinite relief Enjolras rolls his eyes. “For the record,” he says. “Courf wouldn’t kill you either, he’d just say we wouldn’t be allowed out without supervision.”

Grantaire decides not to acknowledge that Musichetta _has_ actually said something in that vein before. Instead he treats Enjolras to a dramatic shudder. “Gods no, give me death any day. I don't dance under supervision.” 

“Not like that you don't,” Enjolras snorts and Grantaire looks up at him in curiosity.

Enjolras meets his eyes. “I’ve never seen you dance like that before,” he says, with that gentle, quiet earnestness in his voice that always goes straight for Grantaire’s throat no matter how many times he’s heard it.

They both turn away from facing each other, walking vaguely in the direction of the jukebox like they just agreed that they should be thinking of leaving.

“...it was cool. To see you really dance.”

Grantaire shoves his hands into his pockets and breathes. “Well. You should come along next time then. When I’m training properly. If you like.”

There’s a single beat of silence in which he can just see Enjolras bow his head from the corner of his eye. 

“I would. I’d like it a lot.”

**Author's Note:**

> LSF = langue des signes Française (French Sign Language. See some signs here:  
> -[Energy](https://dico.elix-lsf.fr/dictionnaire/%C3%A9nergie/n.f.-159996)  
> -[Share](https://dico.elix-lsf.fr/dictionnaire/partage/n.m.-196768)  
> -[Play](https://dico.elix-lsf.fr/dictionnaire/jouer/v.-179852)
> 
> A bit of background on some of the characters:
> 
>  **Enjolras:** Was born with healing magic and can detect physical damage in people, but refuses to take tutoring to become a healer, because he’s studying law and politics and wants to make a difference that way. As a result he never trained his healing and when he does heal people, he drains himself in the process.
> 
>  **Grantaire:** Has no talent for a specific type of magic, but his power is directly linked to physical movement. He was absolutely rubbish at magic until his tutor, a hearing child of deaf parents, struck on the idea of teaching him sign language. When he signs Grantaire can cast extremely well and he’s learned that dancing is the best way for him to draw up a lot of magic.
> 
>  **Combeferre:** Was born with second sight and can see magical energy around people and objects. He has very good control over it, but overdoing it still gives him a headache.
> 
>  **Bossuet:** Was born with emotional extension and managed to learn emotional reading as well, meaning he can feel other people’s emotions and extend his own emotions outside of himself to influence those around him. 
> 
> For a full list of the Amis, check out the Dramatis Personae at the end of [Second Sight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14460708/chapters/33406863).  
> There is also a full podfic of Second Sight [available here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24186664).
> 
> **Podfic notes:**
> 
> The following are links to all of the music and sound effects used in this podfic, by order of appearance.
> 
> [ _Echo_](https://www.jamendo.com/track/1755550/echo) by Michael Linder  
> [Louisville Light Traffic](https://freesound.org/people/nathanaellentz/sounds/417038/) by nathanaellentz  
> [Light Applause](https://freesound.org/people/ojosdedurazno/sounds/391326/) by ojosdedurazno  
> [Crowd Exterior Street Festival Group Talking People Fair Carnival Sound Effects Sound Effect…](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RcVL7-AC49A&t=14s) by World Class Sound Effects  
> [Footsteps jog flat sneakers](https://freesound.org/people/adda_records/sounds/519975/) by adda_records  
> [Heart Beat After 20 Min](https://freesound.org/people/family1st/sounds/44778/) by family1st  
> [Metal door closing 2](https://freesound.org/people/Tuben/sounds/161392/) by Tuben  
> [Cymbal swells kevinsticks](https://freesound.org/people/hallkev/sounds/428614/) by hallkev  
> [Cassette Tape Deck Player Recorder Sound Effects / Video Loop](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cA1WptoVbF0) by YouToogle  
> [SparksFly2](https://freesound.org/people/bliindness/sounds/524581/) by blindness  
> [sparks](https://freesound.org/people/Marregheriti/sounds/266106/) by Marregheriti  
> [ _Happy Big Band (2016)_](https://www.jamendo.com/track/1363426/happy-big-band) by MAGIKSTUDIO  
> [ _GARRISON – The Dreams of Morpheus (2019)_](https://www.jamendo.com/track/1668595/garrison-the-dreams-of-morpheus) by Delta Worldwide Group  
> [Footsteps sound effect walking in hallways on concrete floor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2tJyO_4HaUo&t=38s) by Calming Sounds  
> [ _Eventide_](https://www.purple-planet.com/atmospheric) by Purple Planet Music  
> [ _Slow Dissolve_](https://www.purple-planet.com/atmospheric) by Purple Planet Music  
> Water Dripping Sounds – Recorded by TheLordOfLaMancha  
> [ _Dance With Me_](https://freemusicarchive.org/music/Sergey_Cheremisinov/Hidden_Crystal/Sergey_Cheremisinov_-_Hidden_Crystal_-_01_Dance_With_Me) by Sergey Cheremisinov  
> [【自然音】せせらぎ - 4 / 1 Hour Nature Sounds - Babbling Brook Sounds](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=64eIdY9GQN4&t=429s) by 自然の音  
> [ _A Safe Place_](https://www.jamendo.com/track/1755551/a-safe-place) by Michael Linder
> 
> Thanks for listening. :)


End file.
